The Law of the Jungle
by TheNewIdea
Summary: The Law of the Jungle: the survival of the fittest, the Right of the Strongest. These are the things that have bound the frontier since the dawn of time. Wars have been fought over it; entire kingdoms and civilizations rose and fell under its power. But those days are long gone, for now there are different laws and different ways. Now, there is peace.
1. Prologue: Of Evil Creatures

Prologue: Of Evil Creatures and Their Habits

"All the world will be your enemy Prince with a Thousand Enemies, and when they catch you, they will kill you. But first they must catch you…Be cunning and full of tricks and your people shall never be destroyed." – Richard Adams, _Watership Down_ Chapter 6 "The Story of the Blessing of El-ahrairah" (1972)

* * *

The apartment was perhaps the one thing in his life that he knew with almost complete certainty would remain a constant. The floor was damp, the wood molding on account of a leak that had been largely ignored in favor of other projects; one of which were the dilapidated walls, with cracks in every possible place imaginable, to the point where one could see into the next room; and the paint job of a five year old it was a wonder that the roof, which was in an equal state of disrepair, did not collapse. Perhaps it was luck or maybe the Power of the Protagonist, that kept Nick Wilde's roof upright, or perhaps it was simply bidding its time, waiting for a poetically ironic moment to finally give up, and thus, create meaning. Whatever the case was, the roof, for the moment at least, remained as it was; rotting and slowly falling apart.

In terms of Nick Wilde himself, there was not much to say; for the fox rarely did anything of remarkable interest other than exist. Dressed in a faded green shirt that he had purloined from Mr. Ferguson, a deer; a patched blue tie that he had stitched together from various pieces when he could find them; and equally patched and faded khaki pants that he had bought years ago and repaired, Nick silently began to hate himself. To be fair to Nick, he was not a self-loathing creature, for he considered himself among his closest friends most of the time; it was just on this particular occasion that he allowed hatred to seep into his heart. He hated his apartment and how it was never clean, he hated his job at the Popsicle stick factory and he hated his landlady Mrs. Driver, a kangaroo with a chip on her shoulder for the entire world; her husband, Mr. Driver, Nick had no personal qualms with, other than that he was an extremely loud talker in any conversation, which made it almost impossible to talk about sensitive matters. But mostly, Nick hated that he was constantly alone.

"It would be nice" Nick thought to himself as he made his way forward, ultimately sitting on the couch, "To have someone to talk to, someone who understood."

The fox was then reminded of something that his father had told him once: These are the absolute certainties in life- No one is born evil, no one is born alone, and everyone matters to someone. Whether or not Nick actually believed him is another entirely, for he was often known to stretch the boundaries of fact and fiction, truth and half-truth.

"No one is born evil" Nick continued, speaking aloud, his voice soft and sad, as if he finally allowed himself to believe what he had long denied, the singular truth that had become the antithesis to his entire existence up until that point.

Looking out the partially open window, Nick noticed the Zootopian night skyline and how average and dull it appeared. What was once what he considered to be the best view of the city, now had a blanket of familiarity and sameness; no longer did it represent hope and promise like it had before, for in its place stood the personification of everything that was wrong with the world. In Nick's mind the very idea of Zootopia was a fairy tale, an idea that lacked all practicality, logic, and reason. Instinct, he believed, always trumped Philosophy and Ideology. The power to rise above, to overcome what density and fate had given him, was to deny everything that made him who he was, which was something that he could not nor would ever accept.

As Nick turned on the television to land on the news- which he hated, finding them too biased to report impartially and much too focused on popular culture to talk about real issues, like the current housing crisis or the rising poverty rate- he slowly began to tune out the world, and as he did he began to turn to the only thing that put his mind at ease: song. In truth, Nick was the worst singer in the city, for he had absolutely no sense of pitch, which was incredibly unfortunate given that his rhythm was sublime; but that did not stop him from doing so all the same, if only to leave for a few moments. In his heart of hearts he knew that he could not escape the world forever, just as he could not escape the numerous phrases and slurs that passed his ears every day; and this saddened him, and in addition to his loneliness, became the reason for his song. At the same time however, Nick promised himself that he would never cry out of loneliness again and that if he were to sing it would only be out of sheer happiness to the point that no other action was called for. And so, as the television made its way to a documentary channel about The Law of the Jungle, Nick, reducing himself to humming, turned up the volume as he listened to the words of the famous philosopher, writer, poet, and social activist Thomas Moore, a crane, as it played on the archival footage.

"Cranes are very pragmatic by nature. We often only see things as they were and as they are, never as they could be. The same is true for those of us who are gathered here now. It is our responsibility, not as prey or predator, but as individuals, to rise above what we have been called. To prove that we are more than cranes, more than lions, or mongooses, or chickens, or mice. Or yes, more than even foxes. That it is not what we are, but what we do, that defines us."

Nick did not really know why he took a sudden interest in the words of Thomas Moore, he severely doubted that he was growing an intellectual conscience, and he had always maintained that as far as politics and other such matters were concerned that he was anti-authoritarian on almost every issue that one could possess an opinion on, so it was a general surprise to find himself taken by Moore's words. He would later say that it was the neutrality and the animalist ideology that caught his attention, but in the moment it was not the overall meaning but the specific mentioning of his species; to be thought of and spoken in a positive light. It was a good feeling, he figured, to be recognized and not hated immediately; and so, with this thought in mind, Nick resigned himself to sleep. As he dreamed, both of better days and the possibility of the promise of a new life, the world around him became brighter, as the sun creeped over the horizon, bringing on the coming of the morning and a new day.


	2. Chapter One: The Way Things Are

Chapter One: The Way Things Are

"Therefore, each of you must put off falsehood and speak truthfully to your neighbor, for we are all members of one body. "In your anger do not sin": Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry, and do not give the devil a foothold." – Ephesians 4:25-27, _the Holy Bible NIV_

* * *

Walking into the police station with a sense of purpose despite having none, for he had always made it a point to have an air of confidence in public, Nick smiled to himself as he found Officer Benjamin Clawhauser greeting the other officers and random citizens that made their way through the front door. Nick noticed that Clawhauser was particularly friendly with Jack and Moon, two wolves in the Homicide division, one of the darkest and generally unused sections of the Central Precinct. Jack, who like Clawhauser always seemed to be smiling, apparently overcoming the unfortunate circumstance of working in an obsolete division, laughed heartedly at Clawhauser's jokes, the most recent one having something to do with a wildebeest. Moon, who was much more serious when it came to such matters, only rolled her eyes and shook her head indifferently; and without even so much as a word, began to drag Jack away from the reception desk.

"Excuse me Clawhauser, some of us have work to do" Moon declared condescendingly, cutting both of them off, "Come on Jack. The dust bunnies can't clean themselves."

Jack huffed and casually lifted Moon's paw off of his shoulder, returning to the reception desk.

"Would you relax?" he said candidly, "Homicide's dead. There hasn't been a murder in this city since the Riots of '67. Besides, it's not like those dust bunnies are going anywhere."

Moon growled, obviously insulted; it had taken her years to work her way up to her position and despite its rather laidback and slow pace that it currently possessed, was not about to jeopardize her reputation and her job, over an indifferent partner.

"You listen to me Jack" Moon began, done with the pleasantries "I did not spend five years working my way to this post just so you can drag me down. I don't give a damn if we haven't a murder in 48 years we're going to Homicide."

Jack, reeling back covering his face with his paws, in a feeble attempt at protecting himself, slowly turned towards Clawhauser, who sat up as erect as possible, obviously uncomfortable at the sudden outburst, unsure as how to react.

"There's no need to get so defensive about it" Jack exclaimed sharply, "Besides, I can't help it if we're C.I.N.O.s "

Moon groaned in annoyance, for Jack often had a habit of making acronyms for terms that technically did not exist and yet existed in the form of other words. For example, his term C.I.N.O. stands for Cop In Name Only.

"Stop making up names for things that don't exist" Moon said, chastising, despite knowing what he meant, "And for the last time we _are_ cops. Homicide is a respectable position."

Jack huffed and shook his head as he turned to Clawhauser for support, who, now having read the situation as yet another typical confrontation between the two, laughed and shook his own head in complete disagreement. Rolling to the other side of the desk, the cheetah casually pulled out a bucket of popcorn from underneath his desk and sarcastically began to eat it, enthusiastically watching the impeding maelstrom that was to be the remainder of the conversation.

"It's only respectable if we're actually doing something" Jack retorted, folding his arms in discontent, "What's the point of being a cop if all you do is file cases and make reports? We've been reduced to the least respectable position imaginable in this building!"

"You're secretaries" a voice replied, that of Nick, who by this point had taken an interest and invisibly approached.

Jack, slightly put off by the sudden interruption, his flow completely broken as his words abandoned him and his thoughts took over. At the moment, the wolf was thinking about multiple things at once, such was the way his mind worked, among them being why he had skipped breakfast that morning; why Gazelle was considered a popular icon even though she was a generally average singer; how it was that Clawhauser, who despite being a good friend, ever landed a job at the ZPD; and why it was that Nick Wilde, in his tattered, coffee stained clothes and unkempt fur, spoke in such a way as if he knew exactly what he was talking about.

Moon, ignoring Jack's dumbfounded state, for he looked as if his brain had temporarily stopped working, casually and with a general sense of indifference, turned to face this new player in the brutal game of the conversation, fully intent on winning it.

"And who the hell are you to tell us what we are?" she declared sharply, "Look at you, you're the schlubiest person I've seen all day."

Nick laughed and slowly began to slip into his nonchalant demeanor, as he often did when confronting authority.

"Are you kidding me?" Nick retorted, "Have you checked your eyes recently or are you really that dense?"

Nick glanced over to Clawhauser, who was still eating popcorn as if he were watching his favorite scene in his second favorite movie, and immediately began to feel sorry for him, if only because what he was about to do he would not be able to take back with considerable ease.

"I mean have you seen this guy?" Nick continued, pointing to Clawhauser, "He's coated in schlubbiness; he probably hasn't even heard of a salad!"

Jack, who still maintained his sense of hearing, snapped out of his stupidity and instinctively growled, something that he wasn't particularly good at, for his teeth were largely kept inside, resulting in an awkward rumbling of his muzzle that was incredibly embarrassing on an emotional level. At the moment however, Jack was not concerned with his reputation, in part because he had none to begin with, and in part because he was more concerned with the conscious of Clawhauser. Moon, reading Jack's body language but being much more reserved in her reaction, expressing her displeasure with the simple widening of the eyes, became tense and posed herself in the event that physical action was called for.

"Watch yourself fox" Moon said sharply, speaking for Jack, who for obvious reasons, said nothing, "Don't say anything you'll regret."

Nick turned to Clawhauser, who remained unfazed, completely oblivious to the fact that he was the subject of a conversation, now much more focused on the remaining contents of his bucket than anything that was going on around him. He laughed and shook his head, amazed that anyone would bother going through the necessary training for Clawhauser.

"Let me see" Nick continued, antagonizing them, and then immediately hatching an idea, "Hey fat-man, do you lift?"

Clawhauser, who was now licking butter off of himself, as if he were a house cat bathing itself, stopped immediately at being addressed and turned to Nick. He casually extended out his paw for a handshake, just as he was taught when meeting new people, only to be immediately denied by the fox, who casually leaned up and began whispering in his ear, periodically gesturing to Moon and Jack. Clawhauser, who was very good at devoting attention to people, listened intently and smiled giddily to himself; for he was finally allowed to participate in something that was potentially of his own making. Nick then returned to his natural stance, and Clawhauser nonchalantly opened the swing gate to the reception desk as he began his breathing exercises.

"What the hell is up with this guy?" Nick began, referring to Jack, his voice louder than usual, "His mouth is running like a damn motor. Your dentist must make a fortune off you pal, the way you're rattling those canines of yours."

Jack stepped closer, Moon, who was nearing a breaking point, relaxed her muscles and spaced her feet shoulder length apart in a standard running stance. Nick, reading the visual cues and relaying to Clawhauser, casually began moving backwards.

"Hey fat man" Nick said, for he had not yet gotten Clawhauser's name, believing in simple formalities when meeting new people, a hypocritical philosophy, "How many wolves does it take to screw in a lightbulb at night?"

Clawhauser, who up until now had not said much until now, preferring to listen and observe, shrugged and answered him.

"I don't know, how many?"

Nick laughed and nonchalantly jabbed his direction, a useless gesture given that Clawhauser was still technically behind the desk and was more for visual effect and annoyance for Jack and Moon.

"About forty."

Clawhauser, who did not get the joke, for it wasn't incredibly funny and more of an insult than a joke, feigned an attempt at understanding and laughed all the same, if only to maintain the illusion that he and Nick were creating. This was enough to initiate a response from the wolves, especially from Jack, who still rumbling, finally allowed himself to break free and let loose the pent out aggression that had been building up inside for the past few minutes. No sooner did this happen, did Nick, followed as best as possible by Clawhauser, who could be fast when he wanted to be, sprint across the lobby; Nick followed by Jack and Clawhauser by Moon, who was in too much of a rage to differentiate friend from foe.

Jack stretched and clawed his way to Nick with relative ease, partially because he was a wolf and thus, able to take a fox, and partially because Nick had permitted himself to be caught. As he found himself pinned to the floor, at the same time taking in Jack's morning breath, Nick, who maintained his composure, stared directly into Jack's half crazed eyes and waited.

"It's one thing to insult us" Jack began, airing the words that had been festering inside his head, "But you disrespect Benny and you die."

Nick, who resisted the temptation to correct Jack in the order of where the insults lay, for he insulted Clawhauser first and then the wolves; thereby making Jack's statement have little sense, further demonstrating the wolf's level of intelligence and often addlebrained mentality, could only laugh and shake his head in pity.

"It's funny how much you claim to care about him" Nick began, "Since he's currently giving himself a heart attack-"

Jack, looking up, a slight worried look on his face, his concern for Clawhauser overriding his own self-esteem. He eventually found him, clamoring on a banner that hung from the ceiling, fear and adrenaline, as well as whatever physical prowess the cheetah possessed forcing him to his current position; below him Moon, barking and berating irrationally.

"What should I do?" Jack asked, mostly talking to himself as he aimlessly looked around for advice or a sense of action.

Nick smiled and casually tapped Jack's shoulder, causing the wolf to turn towards him, confused and incredibly agitated.

"The Law of the Jungle" Nick suggested.

Jack was generally surprised at the answer, for he had not considered it a possibility. True, he had heard about it from his grandfather, who in turn had heard of it from his father, the last generation to actively use The Law; but he had never once seen it practiced. He wondered how it was that Nick knew of the Law of the Jungle, if perhaps like himself it had been passed down, or in the unlikely event that the fox was somehow studious in history. It made little difference, the only thing that mattered was Clawhauser.

"Let's see" Jack returned, thinking aloud, "How does it go? Granddad said there was a specific phrase that started it. Hail…Gather…No, it was something simple, direct."

Nick glanced over to Clawhauser, who was now screaming for mercy and receiving none, Moon now past the most basic parts of logic and reason, relying on Instinct. Jack, who also took the liberty of looking in Moon's direction, for now he was specifically looking at Moon, trying to find inspiration and organize his muddled thoughts. Closing his eyes, Jack, much like Nick had done the night before, retreated into the one place he knew he was truly safe, his one sanctuary- the Homicide department- for despite its dust covered hallways, endless secretarial duties, and dark reputation in most circles, there was still a good bit of light, a small tinge of happiness that he held onto. With this thought in mind, Jack, firm in his resolve, opened his eyes and rose to his feet as he approached Moon and a terrified Clawhauser, who was in the middle of regretting his decision.

"Look well Wolves!" Jack declared, projecting his voice, remembering that The Law was always spoken with a certain degree of authoritative power; one that commanded respect and the full attention of spectators.

"Now this is the Law of the Jungle, as old and as true as the sky. And the wolf that shall keep it may prosper; and the wolf that shall break it must die-"

Jack slowly made his way over to Moon, pausing for effect and emotional weight. In truth, Jack did not fully understand the gravity of his words; the only thing he understood was that two of his closest friends were in need. Reaching Moon, Jack gently placed his paw on Moon's shoulder, his grip firm and reassuring; resulting in the former to retract and slowly calm down. Once Moon's mental head-space was assured, Jack, recognizing that he had stalled for too long, continued, habitually, as was the nature of The Law, looking about the room at any faces he could find.

"As the creeper that gridles the tree trunk, the law runneth forward and back; for the strength of the pack is the wolf, and the strength of the wolf is the pack."

It was then that Jack began to hope and pray, for that was all he knew of the Law of the Jungle; if there was anything more, which he guessed that there was, he was unaware of it. As his hope turned into fear, for Moon seemed to show no other signs of normalcy, Jack did the only thing that he could do and embraced her as tightly as he could; all the while repeating the last phrase: for the strength of the pack is the wolf, and the strength of the wolf is the pack.

Clawhauser, with assistance from some helpful creative passerby, managed to make his way off the banner and back down to the lobby floor. He immediately became calm after seeing Jack, who he had always liked, detain Moon for the time being. Clawhauser watched as Jack, who was normally reserved and timid in the presence of Moon, take on a role he had never previously held; and as he did so he began to develop his own opinion on the meaning of the scene, in particular the singular phrase that Jack dutifully repeated, until finally, after minutes of nothing else, Moon returned to normal and pushed him away.

"Excuse me" Jack said, more insulted at Moon than he could ever be with Nick, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Moon huffed and rolled her eyes, in no mood for a lecture.

"Save it" she replied sternly, "Whatever it is I don't have time for it. Now come on, let's get out of here before Bogo goes down on our asses."

Jack folded his arms and shook his head in defiance; he was not about to let Moon get off with such behavior that easily without a good explanation. He knew of course that he couldn't talk much either, given his own reaction, but at least he was able to have some level of control.

"Moon" Clawhauser began, now feeling obligated to speak, not wanting to widen or create any rifts, "You need to talk about this. Don't keep it bottled inside, it's not healthy."

Moon growled and slowly pulled herself together, making her way towards Homicide, ignoring Clawhauser's remark altogether. Just as she was about to leave the lobby however, Chief Bogo, who had finally heard about the commotion, sprawled into the lobby, cradling an elephant tranquilizer gun.

"Moon, Howle!" he declared, screaming his head off, "My office. Now."

Moon sighed and slowly schlepped her way to Bogo's office, wanting nothing more than to receive whatever punishment she was due and be done with the day. Jack, for his part, could only hug Clawhauser, thankful that he was uninjured, and look for Nick, believing that some kind of thanks was in order. The lobby however, was devoid of Nick Wilde, and so, having nothing else to do and risking the threat of being shot by Bogo, Jack followed Moon up to the chief's office, not really caring what the outcome of the meeting would be.

* * *

Sitting in the dark office of Chief Bogo, for Bogo had intentionally drawn the blinds in an effort to appear intimidating, Jack and Moon impatiently waited for their demotions or pink slips, the only two possibilities that they could think of given the nature of their offence. Jack seemed completely unfazed as he sat in one of the most uncomfortable chairs in the world, for he was waiting for his transfer, which he put in weeks ago, to a quieter division; and in the event that the request was denied, quitting the business altogether to pursue his dream of farming chickens, the only legal form of animal husbandry. Moon however, sat beside herself, unsure of what it was that she would do in the event that she was handed her slip, it being a family tradition, particularly among the women, to be police officers. Raised by the badge and bound by tradition, Moon, in addition to the threat of losing her job, was also dealing with the psychological question of what had caused her to lose the level of control that she normally carried.

Bogo sat in his chair in complete silence, doing nothing but staring into the embarrassed eyes of Moon and the calm unsettling indifference of Jack. After several moments, for Bogo was a fan of dramatic scenes, having always pictured himself in a movie, the chief pulled out a file and slammed it on the desk as hard as he could, startling the officers and causing them to jump out of their seats a few inches.

"If it weren't for the fact that you two idiots, and I stress the term _idiots,_ weren't the only ones in the Homicide department I would have the both of you black-listed until the End of Time!"

Moon started to speak, having come up with a meager defensive in her head, but this was all for naught, for Bogo had cut her off, continuing before she even so much had a chance to speak.

"However, there are currently more pressing concerns. There's an incident that's recently been brought to light."

Bogo casually opened the file, revealing the first page, on which was the picture of a dead fox. Moon, a sudden interest developing, for this was the first case that she had seen since she had been assigned to the precinct, picked up the file and began to examine it closer. Jack, a different kind of curiosity forming in his head, could only turn to Bogo, his eyebrow half-cocked and reeking of skepticism.

"Came in late last night" Bogo explained, "One of the other suits called it in, Clawhauser pulled up everything we had on the victim."

Bogo turned to Jack, who maintained his face of bewilderment.

"Speak Howle, I don't have all day."

Jack shook his head, for it made no sense, The Law of Social Order, which replaced The Law of the Jungle after the Riots, was supposed to put an end to such types of crime.

"You're telling me that after 48 years we have a murder?" Jack reiterated, "That's a little unprecedented don't you think? Hell, Homicide itself is just a token department."

Bogo nodded, for he could not deny Jack's line of reasoning, partially agreeing that it was indeed strange under the circumstances.

"Of course it's unprecedented" Bogo replied, "And it's going to stay that way if you know what's good for you. If word got out that we had a murder, all of Zootopia would be in a frenzy. They would start asking questions; questions without any kind of answers. Before you know it we'd be back to the Bad Old Days. That's why it's imperative that we find whoever did this and make them pay. Our way of life depends on it."

Bogo stood and pointed towards the door. Jack and Moon, folding the file, following suit.

"You know what you have to do" Bogo continued, "Get it done, because if you don't, it'll be more than your jobs at stake."

Jack immediately felt, for the first time in his life, a sense of dread, guessing what Bogo had meant; Moon however was too engrossed in the case file to notice and so only partially heard the remark. Just as they as they were about to walk away, for they had a considerable amount of work to accomplish in Homicide before beginning on their task, Bogo stopped them.

"Oh and one more thing" he said, "Howle, that transfer you requested for, it's been denied. Also, apparently you're an Inspector now. See Clawhauser for your new badge, desk and duties. Congratulations and all that."

With this Bogo closed his door, leaving them to themselves in the hallway. Moon, who regained her considerable attention span, once again stood beside herself, dumbfounded that it was he and not she, who had been promoted. Jack, who was equally shocked, tried to console her as best he could and moved for an embrace, only to be denied with Moon disregarding him entirely as she made her way towards Homicide.

"I'm sorry" Jack began feebly, trying to think of the right words to say that would take away the resentment that she obviously harbored, "I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything" Moon said, deflecting, "What's done is done. Congratulations, you've earned it."

Jack, who knew when Moon was being sincere and when she wasn't, huffed and began to switch tactics. Moon meanwhile, in an attempt to drown him out, began to casually flip through the file.

"If you want to me to say something I'll say it" Jack declared, pleading that he be answered in some capacity, "You want to me to quit? Fine, I'll quit and you can take the Inspector jig, hell, why don't I just promote you all the way to Deputy Chief; would that make you feel better? Or would you rather I jump off of a bridge or hang myself in the lobby? Or better yet why don't you just claw my eyes out, you seem to be real good at that. You already managed to scare poor Benny out of his damn wits today, why don't you take it a step further and commit the second murder that this city's had in 48 goddamn years!"

Moon turned around sharply and pushed Jack down as hard as she could, knocking the wind out of his rant and, for the moment at least, extinguish whatever fire burned in his heart.

"Will you knock it off?" Moon retorted, chastising him once more, "Here. Look at this, the picture on page 4, next of kin. Recognize him?"

Jack grabbed the file as he rose to his feet and dusted himself off. Examining the picture, Jack stared into the eyes of small and sad kit, dressed in a white button-up shirt and khaki pants. It pained him to think that such a small and innocent kid would have to go the rest of their life without their father, until he noticed the date, barely visible, penned in the corner of the picture. It was far too old for it to be contemporary; for the date put him well into adulthood, and judging by what he had seen of the victim, the father wasn't around much, which left, if nothing else, a possible lead.

"Come on" Jack said, slightly defeated, tired of the day and the trouble it had brought, "Let's get to Homicide. We've got work to do."

Moon nodded and took the file, confidently making her way towards Homicide, happy that she was finally given purpose. Jack, who possessed mixed feelings on the issue, on one hand happy that he was, as his own words came back around, a real cop; and on one hand sad, for such validation required a murder. Much better, he thought, would it be to be a farmer, where everything made sense and the world was simpler. Still, if only because he was bound by a sense of duty, Jack made his way to Homicide, his heart heavy and full of questions that it was not ready to answer. As for Clawhauser, whom Jack had been so protective of, he continued his duties just as he had before: waving to everyone he happened to see with a smile on his face; his mouth covered in doughnut sprinkles.


	3. Chapter Two: Where Nothing Ever Happens

Chapter Two: Where Nothing Ever Happens

"To a father growing old nothing is dearer than a daughter." – Euripides

"Nothing ever happens like you imagine it will...but then again, if you don't imagine, nothing ever happens at all."- John Green, _Paper Towns_

* * *

The township of Bunnyburrow, aptly named for its large population of rabbits, was the quaintest place that one could possibly hope to find; with its endless farms of every kind of vegetable and fruit imaginable- squash, pumpkin, watermelon, wheat, and various types of juniper- as well as its beautiful vista-esque views with the affordability of a hostel, it had the appeal that drew those who were either tired of city life or looking for prospects outside of industrial manufacturing and retail. In short, it was the perfect place to raise a family, which for Stu Hopps, being a rabbit, was a major selling point.

Over the course of the twenty odd years that he had lived in the area, Stu had various degrees of success in regards to his farming pursuits. One particular season, out of the forty-two acres he had owned at the time, only ten of them produced any results; most of which he was forced to sell in order to pay for the needs of his family, which at the time, only consisted of 24 bunnies, himself, and his wife, Bonnie. At the time, the world was a much kinder place, in times of trouble, such as the failing crops, neighbors from all over- down the street, across town, and at times across the county- came to do their part. Some came with food; others with seed; and those that didn't come with seed or food came with the warmth and kindness, bringing songs, merriment, and good cheer. Stu remembered that season, not because of the small harvest or that three of his children had died, but because of his neighbors, many of whom were now some of his closest friends.

Sitting on the front porch of his home, slightly procrastinating in his duties and simply enjoying the sunrise, Stu, a piece of straw in his teeth, casually began strumming an old acoustic guitar, which he had not played since he met his wife. As he played, his thoughts turned to his eldest daughter, Judy, and the place she would have in the world. Stu would not deny, he had always wanted Judy to become a farmer like himself, if only because he knew the profession and the limited risk; but he also knew of the greater risk that came with forcing Judy, the resentment of his daughter, which was something that his heart would not allow.

Stu's thoughts, for the moment at least, coincided with reality, for as his mind drifted to his daughter, Judy herself, dressed in a grey sweatshirt and sweatpants despite the fact it was in the waning days of summer and still relatively hot, made her way on the front porch. Stu, at seeing Judy, stopped playing and rose to his feet, yawning on his way up.

"Late night?" Judy asked jokingly as she warmed up for her usual morning run, "You know you and Mom could always adopt a few."

Stu laughed and shook his head, accepting the biological fact of rabbits having extremely short gestation periods and thus, able to breed faster than normal species, making for incredibly large burrows, or in Stu's case, households.

"Very funny" Stu replied, "But we figured 300 was more than plenty. No, it's more like an early morning."

Judy stopped and rolled her eyes playfully, for Stu's mornings were always early, given the nature of his work.

"Dad, that's every morning" Judy returned, "Maybe you should consider doing something else? Something you actually like doing?"

Stu, who had returned to his guitar, raised his eyebrows, partially put off by Judy's tone of voice, for it seemed to carry more weight than was necessary, slowly turned to his daughter.

"Don't presume too much young lady" Stu declared, temporarily putting on his Dad Cap, only to remove it, "I'll have you know I am perfectly content as I am. Farming is what I do, it's all I know how to do. It's honest, something to be proud of."

Judy, reading the situation, made herself comfortable on the porch steps and stared out into the field just before the dirt road that lead into town. She could not help but notice the morning sky, and that for some reason: either due to clouds, the time of day, or perhaps the effects of late summer, it had become an auburn color. It was calming, in a way, to find the color normally reserved for evening sky, appear in the morning; it gave Judy hope, that perhaps today would be the day that her dreams would be fully realized.

"Did you ever have a dream Dad?" Judy began, uncertain if it was appropriate to even ask the question.

"Of course I did" Stu answered promptly, returning to his seat, "When I was your age I wanted to be a musician. I wanted to travel the country and play for folks, make them forget whatever troubles they carried for a while."

Judy smiled, for Stu's dream was something that she could easily visualize; and not because she was his daughter and carried a bias, but from a technical standpoint the rabbit was actually a decent singer; his voice improving whenever he played the guitar. She remembered one particular night, when she was younger, how he would come into the bedroom and sit in an old stool and sing her and her siblings to sleep. His voice, much like the current landscape, was calming and reminiscent of home, carrying the good values that he had been brought up with; the values that he had tried to instill in his children, all with tremendous success. This thought, along with many others like it, made Judy proud to be a Hopps, but more importantly, that Stu was her father.

"Can you sing something for me?" Judy continued, temporarily forgetting her morning run and instead craving the nostalgia and security of the guitar, "Something I can take with me to the city."

Stu casually shifted himself in the chair, for it was easily considered to be the most uncomfortable chair in the world, being old and not meant for long stretches of sitting, and did what was perhaps the most unprecedented thing he did since he allowed Judy to pursue her aspirations of becoming a police officer.

"Play something for yourself" Stu said nonchalantly, handing the guitar over to Judy.

Judy laughed in disbelief and shook her head, reluctantly taking the guitar and gently strumming the strings; her memories now fueled and pushing all thought of leaving out of her mind. The only thing that she cared about at the moment was time and spending it with Stu.

"I can't take this" Judy said finally, setting the guitar on the porch, "You love that guitar."

Stu nodded and smiled, for he would not deny that he was incredibly fond of the instrument, for it held many memories of times both good and bad, yet he loved his daughter more; and so, could think of no greater gift to send.

"Do you know what that guitar is made of? Wood and cooper" Stu said, carrying the wisdom that he had accumulated over the years, "Yet it is so much more. It has been through hell and high water: the wettest summer, the coldest winter, the droughts, and the famines, not to mention forty-two of your siblings passing on; yet despite all its hardship it still plays the same."

Stu stopped for a moment, for how he said his next few words would be paramount if this was to be their last true conversation. Collecting his thoughts, for he was a rabbit who liked to take his time, Stu rose to his feet and readjusted his hat, which, much like his overalls and the plaid shirt that he always wore, was slightly fade due to the sun. Stu casually leaned on the railing, and smiled to himself as he saw Barnaby, a badger, drive his tractor on the road, heading for his fields.

"Do you remember when you first joined the police academy?" Stu began, finally continuing, "How frightened your Mom and I were? Every time we told you to lower your expectations you only raised them. Now, you're a valedictorian on your way to the big city to try and make the world a better place. Talk about overcoming obstacles."

Judy was starting to get annoyed, for this was nothing that she hadn't heard before; how she should be proud for her accomplishments as if she had already won and received the just reward. She had heard it from her mother; Barnaby; most of the townsfolk; even Gideon Gray, and now she was hearing it from her father, the one person that she wanted absolute full transparency from.

"Dad" Judy declared, butting in, "That doesn't mean anything until I actually get there; so hold off on the praise for a bit."

Stu shrugged and turned away, for inside he could hear Bonnie waking up from a late start, and, figuring that he would be a good husband, got into the mindset of preparing breakfast, which was officially cooked the night before.

"Before you go" Stu said as he opened the door, "Be sure to drop off that batch of apples to Gideon. He needs 'em for his pies. It's in the storage shed out back."

Judy groaned and sighed, annoyed that she was being asked to do something that Stu could have easily done himself at any given point; now, she ran the risk of running late for the train that would take her away, out of the small town where nothing ever happens, to the hustling and bustling city of Zootopia, which to her, remained the shining example of possibility, hope, and opportunity. Judy often wondered what her life would be like if she were born in Zootopia instead of Bunnyburrow, if she would still have the same ambition, the same aspiration, and the same outlook on life. She liked to believe that these things would ultimately remain, but in her heart she guessed that some things would change, whether or not they would be for the better currently remained to be seen. As these thoughts crossed her mind, she could not help but hear inside her head the many times that Bonnie had told to pursue other more realistic goals.

"I know that you're a career woman at heart Judy" Bonnie had once said, "And that's all well and good, more power to you; but there's more to life."

Judy knew that whenever Bonnie said something along the lines of this she was referring to love and the fact that Judy, for most of her life, never actively pursued it despite receiving it on several occasions. Mostly, it was the neighborhood farmhands, which Judy found nice, but had virtually nothing in common with; and more recently it had been Gideon, who in his newly found mild temperament, had come to see Judy as an equal, and thus approachable. Now, much like before with the advancement of praise, Stu was herding Judy in a direction, for in truth, she knew that Gideon did not need apples, having received a shipment last week; and not being a particularly fast baker, was unable to go through so many apples in such a short period of time. Folding her arms in protest and shifting her weight to her left side, as she often did, Judy stared at her father with all the seriousness in the world and immediately shut him down.

"Gideon doesn't need apples Dad" Judy stated, "What he needs is to grow a brain, I'm not interested."

Stu turned around once more, meeting her gaze and sighed, hating the fact that he had been caught. Still, he held his ground. Gently removing his hat, allowing his ears to breathe naturally, Stu attempted, as best as he was able, to explain his reasoning; never once losing his demeanor.

"Your mother and I are just trying to think of what's best for you" Stu declared, "You've rejected every boy in town that even tries to get close to you-"

"For good reason" Judy interjected, "I have _nothing_ in common with them. How am I supposed to spend time with someone I have nothing in common with? What, you want me to lie, is that it? I'd rather cut my ears off than listen to that rabble fawn over me like I'm a thing. I will not be objectified."

Stu raised his paw, stopping her; wanting to keep the conversation as civil as possible, given the circumstances.

"There's a difference from not wanting to being objectified and never allowing yourself to fall in love" Stu declared, correcting her and clarifying his position, "If you don't let people in every once in a while, you're going to find yourself alone. Please, if nothing else, talk to Gideon. Hear the boy out."

Judy huffed and shook her head, for Stu had completely missed the point entirely; or at least, so she thought. In reality, Stu understood his daughter better than she understood herself, if only because he was older and wise in experience. He knew what it was like, to go through the world with a certain set of standards and find those standards well below the average par; it had happened when he first set out to become a musician in his youth, it had happened when he met Bonnie, and it had happened during the first few years of farming. In a way, it was still happening, his expectations for the world now on considerably low, almost flat, terms. His faith in people however, and their capability to do good, had risen, as was the case on his opinion with Gideon.

"I'm not asking you to marry the man" Stu continued, reading Judy's body language, "I'm just asking you to consider all your options. Go, be a police officer. Save the world if you want to. But what happens when the world is saved? What will you do then?"

With this Stu made his way inside and began to make breakfast. Judy meanwhile, decided to forgo her running plans and headed for the train station. Stu, who could not help but watch from the kitchen window, sighed and silently cried to himself; as far as he knew, the last words he ever said to his daughter were words of scrutiny. Of course he knew that he could always call, for she wasn't leaving the country, nor was she dead, but it was the principle of the matter that laid heavily on his heart. It was then that Stu made a promise that he had made so many times before, that when it came to his family, no matter what the circumstance, the last words that were spoken would always be affirmations of love.

* * *

Waiting for the train that would whisk her away to a new life, Judy sat calmly and listened to the latest Gazelle album; which, other than one or two songs, was not very good and generally unappealing. The only reason she listened to it at all was because it put her in the proper head-space; allowing her to think on matters that she deemed important. With her at the station was Henry Oldenrist, a scrawny farmhand rabbit and one of Judy's rejected suitors. Why Henry was at the station wasn't a huge mystery, for it was well known that he had family in Zootopia, and that of that family, one of them was his uncle, who had recently died. Judy thought about walking over and consoling him, if only to mend fences, but decided against it, for no sooner did she have the thought did Mrs. Oldenrist, Henry's mother, do the job for her.

Around the corner Judy could see three of the neighborhood kids eating candied apples. Behind them was Gideon, who was pushing a cart, on which was bell, which he would ring and begin to sell his merchandise.

"Candied apples, sweet rolls, cakes, pies!"

The sound of Gideon's bell, which Judy could not hear, for she was still listening to Gazelle, emanated across the station and a little further down the road towards the schoolyard. He received no new customers, for it was still much too early for most of his business, the three kids a mere happenstance, and so, after seeing that there was no real activity, settled himself on a bench and began to count his wares. Moments later, Gideon made his way to the Oldenrists and, after giving each of them a candided apple, made himself comfortable next to Henry.

"I'm real sorry about your uncle" Gideon exclaimed, expressing his sympathies, "I know that you was close to him."

Henry nodded and wiped his nose, a side effect of the heavy crying he had been doing. Looking down at the candied apple he had been given, a small smile forming on his face, and a made sound that, under normal circumstances, would have been considered a laugh, but was much more on the lines of an expressive sigh.

"I like candied apples" Henry said candidly, "One of my favorites. Uncle Remus would always take me shopping for some every time I visited the city."

Gideon nodded and gently patted Henry's back as a show of solidarity. He would never be able to understand the pain, for he never had an uncle, both of his parents being the only surviving children in their respective litters, but he did his best to empathize. Gideon, who never considered himself to be an intellectual, for in fact he was incredibly simple, knew that there were at least four types of pain in the world- having received both ends in equal measure. Physical pain, he understood the most, being the bully of almost everyone that grew up with him; and coincided with this were mental pain and emotional pain. Spiritual pain he only knew about later, when the world finally decided that they weren't going to stand for his games any longer and he found himself virtually alone, the only solace that was afforded to him coming from God and the local pastor. Of all of these forms of pain, Gideon recognized that Henry was currently experiencing all of them at once, and so did the only thing that anyone could do and simply be in the company of the needy.

Mrs. Olderist smiled and, if only to be gracious, took a bite of her candied apple, which she was personally not a fan of, much preferring Gideon's pies. Still, she took what she got and made it a point not to complain, especially since Gideon was the only person besides herself who took the time to consul Henry.

"Thank you Gideon" Mrs. Olderist said warmly, batting her eyes with a hankerchief, "It's nice knowing that there's someone like you who understands."

Gideon brushed her off and shook his head, refusing to accept the praise, feeling as if he did nothing to deserve it.

"No thanks necessary ma'am" Gideon replied humbly, "I just wish it were under better circumstances."

The fox casually looked at his wristwatch and then down the track, in the distance, the faint sound of the horn as the train approached the station. Smiling and once again patting Henry on the back, Gideon stood, prompting the others to follow suit, after which he extended his paw to Henry, who graciously accepted.

"Call me when you get there" Gideon instructed, "Just to make sure things are alright."

Henry nodded and smiled meekly, unsure as to the proper response, and so did the impulsive thing and embraced Gideon as if he had always been the friend that he now was. Gideon, who never received a hug on impulse, could only cry, and as he did, he imagined what his life would have been life if he had been nicer to people earlier.

"Don't forget" Gideon said in parting, "As long as I'm here, you'll always have a friend."

As they broke away, Henry gathered his things and said goodbye to his mother; whereby Gideon returned to his cart. It was only on his way back to the cart that he noticed Judy, staring out into space, as she waited for her ultimate rescue. Sighing, his mind wandering to the poisonous what-might-have-beens, Gideon, preparing for emotional suicide, made his way towards the bench. As he approached, he thought about the exact moment it was that he felt an attraction towards Judy. If he had to guess it was during a therapy session with his psychiatrist, and if not then, a Sunday afternoon, during the solitude period of his life, when the idea became, if not full attraction, a light fantasy that soon developed into reality. In a way it saddened him that Judy did not reciporate any of these feelings, and yet he understood the reason as to why; for in addition to having almost nothing in common, something that he recognized, he also still carried the stigma that being a childhood bully creates. Despite his feelings and whatever they actually meant, for he was still trying to figure them out, Gideon respected Judy and her decision, both to be alone and for leaving for Zootopia.

"So I guess this is the part where I convince you to stay?" Gideon began jokingly as he sat down next to Judy, who said nothing, too lost in herself and her music to notice his approach.

Gideon, unable to take the uncomfortable silence that followed, cleared his throat; when this failed he casually waved his paw in front of Judy, thereby bringing his existence to her attention; as well as a can of fox repellent being waved in his face, Judy pinning him to the back of the bench.

"Don't do that!" Judy berated, removing her earbuds, "I almost maced you!"

Gideon nodded, making a mental note and casually shook his head, showing his compliance.

"Relax" Gideon said calmly, "I'm not doing nothing. Just wanting to talk."

Judy huffed and slowly returned to her seat, still cradling the repellent. Gideon sighed and hung his head, the words that he wanted to say, although few and simple, still weighed on him as if he were shouldering the universe. They were not declarations of love, for he would never be so bold nor, if he were that bold, never act with such strength; it was more on the lines of advice, and even then, nothing that she probably had not heard before.

"If you have something to say" Judy began, "You might as well say it."

Gideon, overcoming the slight fear that had built inside of him, swallowed hard and decided to speak as freely as he dared.

"What was it on God's green Earth that made you decide that you wanted to become a cop?"

Judy shrugged and laughed to herself, for it was a question that she heard often; and almost always she had the same answer.

"Did you ever have a dream Gideon?" she returned, "Something that you wanted so badly that you couldn't think of anything else?"

"At one point" Gideon said, being prompt, "That dream had something to do with you. Now that that prospect has gone and died, my dreams are good food, good company and a little bit of happiness."

Gideon re-situated himself on the bench, leaning his head back over the edge and looking up at the ceiling of the train station. Haphazardly, if only to avoid the awkwardness of the situation, the fox began to whistle to himself. After a few moments, he laughed to himself, as if he had a great epiphany, and turned to Judy, in his eyes, all the laughter in the world.

"But seriously" Gideon exclaimed, prying, "Why in the hell would you want to be a cop?"

Judy rolled her eyes and sighed, for she theoretically already answered the question; she could not care if it was to Gideon's satisfaction or not, in fact, the only thing she did care about was the train. She knew that in many ways she was disrespectful and rude, which was entirely out of her character, but she also knew that the only reason she had entered this particular head-space to begin with was because of the enormous phantom pressure that was placed on her head. If and when there was a time for rest and relaxation, she would return to the excitable and overly optimistic person that she was.

"Because I don't know how to do anything else" Judy answered, being particularly short, "It's all I've ever wanted to be. Growing up, it was to protect people, to make a difference-"

Gideon, who couldn't help but notice Judy's tone, raised his eyebrows in concern.

"That's not an answer" he retorted, cutting her off, "Why did you want to be a cop?"

Judy stopped, for she was not used to such directness, most of the residents of Bunnyburrow preferring to skirt around major issues, take their time. It was surprising, in a way, to hear such promptness from Gideon, one of the only positive things that he carried over from childhood; making for a refreshing change of pace.

"I guess I just wanted something to prove" Judy replied, "That someone like me could be something."

Gideon laughed and shook his head in pity, prompting Judy to give him the evil-eye. The fox, not caring that he had been caught, for the laugh was not malicious, and much more on the lines of realization, only brushed off Judy's glance.

"Who said you weren't something already?" Gideon returned, "Your father is one of the most respected farmers in town. Your mother, why hell, she's particularly everyone's mother the way she treats people. And that's saying nothing of you."

Judy smirked and rolled her eyes, deciding if nothing else to humor Gideon and ride whatever direction the conversation lead.

"And what can you say about me Gideon?" Judy said sarcastically.

Gideon shrugged and folded his arms nonchalantly, for there were plenty of things that he could say about a lot of people; most of them were general compliments and observations, for example Henry Oldenrist he found to be too smart for his own good and generally distant, much more concerned with books and numbers than people. Of Judy he found her overly expressive and generally impulsive and yet at the same time found her much too preoccupied with other people, often putting the needs of others before her own; in a way he respected it, and in another he found it incredibly sad.

"You're special" Gideon answered, not really sure how or if he even knew the right words, "And nice, certainly the nicest person I've ever met. Always helping people. But if there was ever a criticism I would say that you work too damn hard and you're stubborn as hell. You don't take gifts if you haven't earned 'em and you never take any praise that you didn't deserve. I guess we're alike in that way."

Judy shook her head in complete disagreement, for she saw nothing to suggest that they had anything in common; much less that they had similar world views. To her, Gideon was still, in many ways, the childhood bully; buttering her up in an attempt to humiliate her.

"We're nothing alike" Judy said harshly, "We might as well be speaking two different languages."

Before Gideon had a chance to speak again the bullet train had pulled into the station, letting off its passengers and ready for boarding. Although he hated to stopped by the sudden arrival of the train, he supposed that it was better than being emotionally destroyed, and so took it in stride. Standing up, his paws in his pockets, becoming submissive and unsure of himself, the presence of the train draining whatever confidence he had built up within him on the bench, Gideon smiled and tried his best to think of parting words. At the moment however, words failed him, and so, acting as quickly as he could, he pulled out a piece of paper and began to write, after which he folded it and nonchalantly gave it to Judy, who pocketed it without even so much as reading it.

"So long Judy" Gideon said as he turned away, heading back to his cart, for now he would have some business, "Don't forget about us little people."

Judy smiled and rolled her eyes, and, finally developing a conscious, stopped Gideon where he was, turned him around and embraced him as tightly as she would allow. Breaking away seconds later, barely giving Gideon time to respond, Judy headed towards the train.

"Wait!" a voice called, yelling through the crowd, that of Stu, who appeared moments later with a large duffle bag, handing it to Judy.

"Glad I caught you" he exclaimed, "Wouldn't want you to leave without you stuff."

Stu glanced to his right, upon seeing Gideon a small glimpse of hope entered his heart, that perhaps he had reached her on some level. It didn't take long for him to realize that his hopes had been dashed, for Gideon's eyes spoke volumes, betraying his smile. Judy, at seeing her father, leapt into his arms and resisted the urge to cry. Returning his affection, Stu ushered her on the train. Gideon, at seeing Judy's distress, calmly stepped forward just as the train doors closed.

"Read the note" Gideon suggested, "You'll feel better."

The train then pulled away; as it disappeared out of sight, Stu casually turned to Gideon and aired his thoughts.

"You still love her?"

Gideon smiled and looked down the track, towards the train, laughing to himself, for the answer to the question was an easy one.

"Every day Mr. Hopps. Let's just hope wherever she ends up she's happy."

Stu nodded in full agreement, toasting Gideon's words to himself. Patting the fox's back, Stu, casually began to walk with Gideon back to his food cart, during which they began to talk about the nature of things, and the direction that they would go henceforth. Never one to try and inconvience people, Stu paid for as many things as he could possibly allow, after which he thanked Gideon for his time and headed for home.

Judy, sitting on the train and once again listening to music, slowly began to relax; her mind going to her place of sanctuary, the skyline of Zootopia. As she drifted she began to go through the contents of the duffle bag, pulling out clothes, a few books, and finally, Stu's guitar. At seeing the guitar, Judy smiled and shook her head, loving her dad for his persistence. It was then that she remembered Gideon's note, and curiosity getting the better of her, she opened it and subsequently read it. It was five simple words, and yet despite their simplicity, carried with it power and meaning: You have nothing to prove.


End file.
